


The Looking Glass

by firefly_quill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at humour, Hanzo's noodle dragons are little shits, I hope these things work okay together, M/M, McHanzo Reverse Bang 2018, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Modern Fantasy AU, Swearing, and they are also silly, but in an adorable way, mildly embarrassing situations, suggested nakedness for comic effect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 09:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_quill/pseuds/firefly_quill
Summary: Hanzo lives a quiet life in his small magical antiquities shop, just far enough off the beaten-path. Quiet, at least, until Ana arrives with a magic mirror and a request. Modern fantasy AU.Written for the McHanzo Reverse Bang 2018.





	The Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> I am so incredibly happy to have worked on this art prompt created by AngryArtisanPeach! It was love at first sight for me when I saw the idea, and it was so great watching it develop together! I will post the link to the art when it is posted: please check back for it, and send them all your love.   
> **Edit:** The art is up, and it is more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed!!   
> [Please have a look and send your love!!! ](https://angryartisanpeach.tumblr.com/post/177458940026/title-the-looking-glass-rating-t-tags-mildly)
> 
> Thanks so much also to localghostgorl for beta-ing the first part, and for the encouragement when this story was at risk of getting stuck. I am sorry that I didn’t complete the rest in time to have you look it over further, but your comments were so helpful! Any errors or plot holes though are totally my own fault :)
> 
> Also also, thanks to Dee and the other mods for organizing this event! It is the first I’ve participated in, and it’s been amazing experience, watching all of the art and stories come together.
> 
> As with all other stories, this one turned out quite differently than I had anticipated. I decided to try a low-key fantasy AU, and hope that this has worked out in an okay way! If you have time, I would love to hear your thoughts! <3

27 minutes. 

The two young tourists had been trying to decide between the two Inari figurines for 27 minutes. Further, they were deciding on two versions of the _same_ figurine, with the exception of a small, barely perceptible imperfection one of the tourists had deemed “charming”. Hanzo was of the opinion that _they_ had ceased being “charming” 25 minutes ago. 

He was on the verge of chasing them out ten minutes after his shop should have closed for the evening, when the gods took pity on him and they finally came to a decision—to purchase neither. Still, Hanzo was relieved to lock the door for the evening. He had an appointment he was eager to keep, and the delay had set him back in his preparations. 

Hanzo gestured towards the kettle, and it began to boil obediently as he retreated to his back room to search his small pantry for tea. The chimes on his counter pinged twice, indicating an approaching visitor. He knew exactly who it was, and as always, she was exactly on time. He waved at his lock and it flickered green. A separate chime indicated the door to his small shop had opened just as he returned to the front room. 

“Greetings,” Hanzo nodded at the old alchemist.

“It’s good to see you, Hanzo,” she replied with a kind smile, eyes darting down to the tin in his hand before meeting his gaze again knowingly. “As always, you have impeccable taste.” 

Hanzo nodded again, pleased that he had chosen well (despite the tiny voice in his head reminding him that Ana was always pleased with whatever tea he had in his hands), and gestured that she should make herself comfortable in the back room while he fetched the kettle.

When he joined her again, she had taken her usual seat next to the small window adorned with dimly glowing fairy lights, talismans and chimes, and was examining a small, golden wind-up bird with sapphire eyes. 

“This is charming,” she mused, poking at its beak. 

“Take it,” Hanzo said without pause, kneeling to pour the tea into small turquoise cups. “A gift for your services.” 

“You pay me for my services,” she reminded him with a chuckle. 

“Then for your kindness,” he shrugged. 

Ana raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Not everything has to be a transaction,” she reminded him. 

Hanzo snorted, turning to retrieve the plate of biscuits that he had already laid out in anticipation of her arrival several hours earlier. 

When he faced her again, her lips were twisted downward, and she was giving him a look. 

“You are a considerate host.” 

Hanzo waved off the compliment. “You are my only guest.” 

She began to frown in earnest at that reply. 

“How is your brother?” She asked after accepting the tea politely. 

“Well enough, I think.” 

“You have not seen him recently?”

“He has his life, and I mine.” Hanzo began to shift on his mat. “Is something the matter?”

“*Is* something the matter?” she repeated with new emphasis, but not unkindly. 

Hanzo took a sip of his tea, not completely understanding her question. 

“All is as it has always been,” he shrugged, unable to shake the feeling that his words had just made things worse. Ana’s eyes had softened with sympathy. “Show me what you have brought.” 

Her expression indicated that she knew he was changing the subject intentionally, but she brought her pack out nonetheless so that she could lay out the assortment of charms, statues, and other magical knick knacks that she had found on her adventures onto the table in front of them. They catalogued and identified the items together, and settled on a reasonable price for each. She also took out several vials of her homemade healing potion, which Hanzo also purchased. 

“The charms sell especially well,” Hanzo crinkled his nose. “The tourists who lose their way from the main road are fond of them.” 

Ana laughed at his distaste. “Do you get many of those?” 

“No,” Hanzo admitted. “But they are especially irritating.” 

“Do you get many customers at all?” Ana inquired further. 

“Enough of them find their way here.” It wasn’t like he needed the money. He had secured enough of it from his family before burning them to the ground to last several lifetimes. But Genji had insisted that he needed to do something, *anything* with his life that he wanted, to show that his life was now his own, and this had been a compromise. Hanzo had always been interested in magical antiquities, and so he started the shop as more of a collection than a business. 

Ana was giving him that *look* again—the one that was definitely of disapproval, although he couldn’t quite pin the source. 

“I will not be able to make our next appointment. Perhaps not even the one after that.” 

Hanzo’s chest clenched uncomfortably at the news, and the reaction was completely unexpected. He hadn’t realized that he had placed so much upon her visits. 

“My next mission will require more of me, and might take some time. I will be fine, ḥabībī,” she added, seeing the worry crease Hanzo’s brow. “I always am.” 

“Of course,” Hanzo nodded, not wanting to insult her abilities. 

“Can I ask a favour of you?” she asked carefully, eyes fixed on his.

“Of course,” he repeated. 

“I have a piece, one that I have kept for a long time. I cannot bring it with me, and want to ensure that it is kept safe. Can I trust you with it?”

“Is it dangerous?” he asked. 

Ana laughed. “No, no. It is a musical mirror, nothing more. Although, he has not been singing much as of late.” 

“Oh?” 

“I don’t think that he has felt much like it,” Ana’s eyes softened again, but this time not as much with sympathy as with sadness. “Do not expect him to sing or whistle on command, either. He is not the type.” 

“He?” Hanzo repeated. 

“An unfair assumption on my part, perhaps, because of the voice.” 

“Ahh.” The more of an explanation Ana tried to provide, the stranger the mirror seemed, and the more curious Hanzo became. 

“So you will take care of the mirror for me?” She asked again. 

Hanzo considered the odd request, but realized that nothing about either Ana or himself was really normal. He nodded. Ana seemed delighted as she opened her bag again, and pulled out a full-sized wall-mirror that shouldn’t have been able to fit into it. It was oval-shaped, and was decorated with ornate, curled flourishes. 

“I could find a place for it in my shop.” Hanzo blinked at his own reflection.

“I would prefer that you keep it upstairs in your living quarters.” Ana chuckled when Hanzo wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Come now. I think it is quite elegant.”

“To some perhaps,” Hanzo acknowledged. “It is simply not my style. But I will do as you say.”

“Thank you, Hanzo,” Ana put a hand on his. “This puts my heart at ease. For both of you.” 

Well, he’d have to puzzle *that* out too. 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Hanzo inquired as Ana stood to leave, as he always did. She opened her mouth to decline, as she always did, but something in his eyes must have given her pause. Her eyes crinkled into a smile. 

“I would be love to.” 

\--- 

Later that evening, Hanzo took the mirror upstairs, as he had promised, and peered at it. His dragons manifested immediately on his shoulders and began to examine it with equal interest. Soba leapt onto the chair, pawing at the mirror’s face, while chattering to his brother. Udon replied warily, but encouraged Soba to scale the mirror, for science. 

“Be careful with that,” Hanzo scolded. “It does not belong to me, and I must keep it safe for Ana.” 

Soba obediently drew back and looked only with his eyes. Both dragons adored Ana, and Hanzo suspected it wasn’t only because she would sometimes bring them treats—they tended to echo his own feelings. Having safeguarded the mirror from his curious spirits, Hanzo resumed his own examination. 

There certainly didn’t seem to be anything magical about it. The mirror reflected his image dutifully—the grey tufts of hair that seemed to have appeared overnight one day, the dark rings around his sunken eyes, every scar, every line that sketched Hanzo’s perpetual frown. Reminded suddenly of why he did not keep many mirrors, Hanzo turned away abruptly, not wanting to see anymore, and deciding that he would need something to cover the reflective surface. Sensing his distress, Soba scampered into his lap before he could fully stand, and both dragons began to croon. Hanzo patted them absently on the heads for their concern, and had made it to the doorway of his room when the melody began, soft and subtle—barely audible at all. It sounded like whistling, just a simple tune. 

While Hanzo had never heard the melody before, somehow, it knew _him_. It reminded Hanzo of sunnier days beside the river, Genji at his side, as they threw feed to the carp begging at the edge of the water. It reminded him of the feeling of grass at his bare feet, as he ran free over the fields by the castle and it felt like he _flew_. It reminded him of his mother’s voice. 

And just as suddenly, the whistling stopped. 

Hanzo hurried back to the mirror’s side, and knelt in front of the chair to get a better look. The mirror had not changed: he was still only staring at himself, although curiously, some of the worry lines were gone. He thought at first it was an illusion, but looked inward to find the tightly wound ball of tension that was always with him in his chest _had_ relaxed—it was as though he could breathe fully again. 

After some thought, he decided to keep the mirror uncovered, and mounted it on a wall across from his room. 

\--- 

It was watching him. He was certain of it. 

Every time he felt the hairs on his neck prickle, he would turn instantly, hoping to catch the mirror in the act. This was an absurd idea, of course, as the mirror itself had no eyes—he would turn to only see himself. 

And yet, his instincts told him that it _was_ watching, and Hanzo’s instincts were hardly ever wrong. 

Both of his dragons were fully smitten with the mirror now. They scampered around it, over it, flattening themselves so that they could fit behind it and the wall. He would often come upstairs from his shop to find one or both dragons chattering at the mirror, as though in conversation, and yet the mirror had not made a sound since the very first day—at least not that he noticed. The dragons appeared more frequently in corporeal form now, and their squeaks and chitters filled the empty silence that normally greeted him when he returned upstairs after closing his shop for the day. It was unexpectedly welcome. 

The mirror was also a _presence_ in the room, one that at times seemed capable of moods and play. 

One evening, Hanzo had settled into his favourite chair after spending longer than usual downstairs sorting inventory. Twilight had come and gone by the time he finished dinner and was able to sit down with a new book on arcane clocks. The darkness of the hour meant there should have been very little chance of light reflecting through the window, and into his eyes. 

Yet there it was, a sharp flick of a moonbeam, so quick and bright that it caused him to lift a hand to shield his eyes. It went away, only to appear again just as Hanzo was getting to a good chapter about 14th century astronomical clocks. 

This had never happened before. Hanzo stood with a grunt, moving to the window to examine the glass. Nothing extraordinary. 

He sat again, only to be instantly blinded by a ray of light. Growling, he slammed his book on the table, and turned his head sharply to find the source of the annoyance. Perhaps he had brought something with him upstairs that he had not intended? No, the only thing he brought upstairs had been boring and unremarkable paperwork. Hanzo scanned the room. To his surprise, the moment his eyes landed on the mirror, it _winked_ at him. Well, it didn’t _actually_ wink. But the moon shifted in just the right way to almost suggest it. 

Hanzo stood again with a sigh, his lips curling into a smile, despite knowing that it was just a trick of light. He walked over to the mirror, wondering at its strange behavior. The only thing out of the ordinary had been his lengthy stay downstairs.

“Were you bored today without someone to spy on?” Hanzo asked, feeling silly the moment the words were spoken. His voice grated rough in his throat, and he realized it was the first time he had spoken aloud the entire day. 

The mirror winked again.

Hanzo blinked at it, not so certain anymore whether he was simply imagining its behaviour.

There was no further movement, no further sound. Hanzo decided to take his book to the small table and chair in front of where the mirror was positioned, to see if it would do anything else that would be considered strange. It would be no exaggeration to say that he felt better closer in its company. 

\--- 

It seemed like an entire lifetime ago that Hanzo was a leader of men, when he was a force to be feared and respected. His family had strongholds all over Japan—their name was recognized internationally, and he had given it all up without regret when it very nearly cost him his brother’s life by his own hands.

He had seen magic beyond the imagination of most, and he himself controlled two of the most devastating magical creatures known to man.

And here his dragons were now, sunbathing bellies-up as a strange and to be honest, quite useless mirror reflected the sun onto just the right spot—perhaps intentionally. 

“What would the ancestors think if they saw you now?” Hanzo chuckled, gently scratching Udon’s belly.

Udon squeaked like a toy and grumbled, likely suggesting that the ancestors never had it so good. Meanwhile, Soba wriggled over so that he too could get a belly rub. Hanzo obliged him. He began to wonder what the ancestors would think of _him_ , but remembered with a fair amount of relief that he didn’t much care. 

He stood once he had finished his tea to wash his few breakfast dishes, despite protests from both dragons. The mirror also seemed to flicker at him from its place on the wall. 

“Do not give me that,” Hanzo scolded. “I must open the shop.”

Soba huffed, clearly not seeing this as a priority. Udon scampered to his feet and began to paw at the mirror. 

“Stop that.” 

Soba squeaked, and started to do the same. 

“Cease!” 

The dragons looked at him defiantly. Their behavior was just proof of how the mirror had somehow become a part of their lives, despite showing no clear sign of sentience. Hanzo still had no confirmation that it was acting by its own will. He could only feel as though it were, and that it was continuing to watch him with a fair amount of…amusement? Fondness? He wasn’t sure. 

Strangest of all he decided, was the fact that he didn’t even mind. In fact, when he was downstairs in his shop during the day, he almost missed the mirror’s presence. 

“Fine. We can take him with us.” 

Both dragons perked up, and began to purr, jumping down to the ground so that they could wind themselves around Hanzo’s legs. 

Hanzo realized belatedly that he had called the mirror “he”, just as Ana had done. He shook his head, lifting the mirror gently with both hands from its place on the wall. 

There was always movement bubbling just under the surface in Hanzo’s shop, whether it was the actual boiling of his kettle for tea or just the faintest rustle that you could almost catch from the corner of your eye. The mirror fit right in. When he had finished clearing a place for the mirror on a desk behind him, it was literally beaming—reflecting light across its surface in waves. 

“I am glad to see this pleases you,” Hanzo chuckled.

That evening, Hanzo once again stayed downstairs longer than usual, having distracted himself with a book on wind-up automatons. His tiredness caught up with him, and he began whispering the words to himself in order to better focus on them. Before he knew it, he was reading aloud fully, but probably not for the mirror’s benefit (*probably* not). 

Later that evening, when Hanzo retired to his quarters, he returned the mirror to its original place on the wall outside his bedroom before puttering around to prepare for bed.

Humming to himself as he brushed his teeth in his bathroom, he noted in passing that the small cracked mirror in this room now just felt like the wrong one. Pushing the thought from his mind, he began to plan his next day, absently walking back into his room to strip down from the night. 

There was definitely a sound—something like a muffled scream—and then a firm _clunk_ from his living room. 

Hanzo pulled on a robe and rushed out, his dragons blazing bright and hovering over his shoulders, to find that the mirror had fallen forward, face down onto the table in front of it. He wondered whether he had perhaps not remounted it firmly enough on the wall. Could it have fallen by its own power? Hanzo looked around to see if anything had changed. He had forgotten to close the door when he was changing, but there had been no breeze from his bedroom window that would have been strong enough to knock the mirror over. 

Clearly knowing something he did not, both of his dragons were rolling on the floor, laughing themselves silly. 

\--- 

A week passed like this: Hanzo would begin his mornings as he usually did, but now bringing the mirror downstairs with him as part of his routine. He positioned the mirror so that the mirror would always be able to see him in the shop. At the end of the day, they would go back upstairs, his dragons would appear, and Hanzo would read aloud to them on the sofa. 

Sometimes, on the cusp of sleep, Hanzo could swear that he heard that same whistled tune from the day of the mirror’s arrival. He slept the best those evenings. 

The bounty hunters arrived two days after Hanzo had convinced himself that he was in fact not going insane, and that his interactions with the mirror were perfectly normal. 

They arrived dressed in black, with wide-brimmed hats and double holsters. Their expressions were sharp with a cruelty that Hanzo recognized from his own eyes, from not so long ago. The air at his back grew colder. Hanzo turned his head slightly to see the mirror’s reflection seemed more _pale_. How odd. He had no time to think on it. 

“May I help you?” Hanzo turned to ask the strangers coldly as they sauntered to his desk. 

“Lookin’ for a man,” One drawled with a heavy accent. The other slammed a wanted poster onto the desk. Hanzo didn’t flinch, and didn’t even look down. “Figured he might be lookin’ ‘round here for supplies.” 

“I sell magical antiquities,” Hanzo replied flatly. “Not supplies.” 

“You sure ‘bout that, pardner?” The same man asked with a sneer. “Been getting’ a lotta awful strange magic readin’ from yer place.” 

“One might imagine that they are from the antiquities. That are _magical_.” While Hanzo could have been more civil, the men’s arrogance irked him, and they had upset his mirror. Well. Ana’s mirror.

The two bounty hunters exchanged a glance. The second one shrugged. The first bared his teeth in an insincere smile. “Beg yer pardon, sir. We’ll just be on our way. You just keep this here though, in case ya do come cross him. Just watch yerself.” He slid the wanted poster across the desk. Both men tipped their hats and left.

Hanzo only deigned to look down at the poster once the door had slammed firmly behind them. 

_Wanted_  
Dead or Alive  
Jesse McCree  
60,000,000  
Reward 

The picture depicted a man dressed similarly to the hunters.

“He is far more handsome than them though,” Hanzo mused. “Don’t you think?” 

He lifted the poster so that it faced the mirror. The mirror beamed, and colour returned vividly to its reflection. 

Beside him, his phone pinged. He placed the poster on the counter to pick it up, fully expecting a message from Ana informing him that her trip had ended early, and feeling oddly torn about it. 

In finding that the message was from Genji, he felt even more ambivalent. 

**Best brother:** Yo.

 **Best brother:** Yo?

 **Best brother:** Why u mad? :( 

**Hanzo:** You changed my phone settings again.

 **Hanzo:** And I am not mad. I am busy.

 **Best brother:** You’re not, and I’m coming over.

 **Hanzo:** What.

 **Best brother:** Last Thurs of the month 2pm ttyl!

\--- 

At 4:36pm, the bell on Hanzo’s desk finally chimed to indicate his brother had arrived. This was hardly unexpected. 

Sighing, Hanzo returned to the front room.

“You are lat—” he began, but his reprimand died in his throat. 

Standing across from him was Genji from 15 years ago, green hair, cheeky grin and all. The air stilled. The murmur of movement in his shop, always tempting to just boil over, came to a complete stop. 

Time itself came to a complete stop. 

“I didn’t think _anything_ could have stopped your lecturing,” Genji teased, leaning forward onto the counter. Hanzo instinctively recoiled. “I’d have tried this a lot sooner if I knew.”

“Impossible,” Hanzo whispered, retreating another step. His back hit the counter behind him hard, causing several baubles to crash to the floor.

“Many things are possible,” Genji shrugged. “You just lack imagination.” 

“How?” This was not his brother. He had killed this brother more than a decade ago, a wound from which Hanzo himself was still trying to heal. 

“Tell you over a drink. Come on,” Genji stood up and waved towards the door. 

From behind him, the mirror began to whistle its tune. 

“Are you alright?” Genji frowned.

“I…” Hanzo began. “Can you not hear it?”

“Hear what?”

Something felt wrong. 

“The whistling. The song.” 

Genji looked genuinely concerned. “You spend too much time alone in this shop, brother. There is no whistling.” 

Hanzo blinked, and reflected on the past few weeks. Perhaps his brother was not mistaken. He had grown attached to an object, had begun to think of it as though it were a living being. He turned back to look at the mirror and found that it was just that: a mirror, devoid of the character that had seemed so natural even minutes before. 

“There’s no song,” Genji tried again. 

The whistling grew louder, more insistent. 

“There is no song, Hanzo. Maybe we should see a heal—”

“What did you call me?” Hanzo interrupted. 

Genji blinked. 

“What did you call me?” 

“Hanzo. That’s your name.” Genji was speaking carefully, as though aware that he might set his brother off with the slightest misstep, and not realizing that he had already made one. 

Hanzo took another step back. Behind him, the song grew more urgent, more panicked. 

“Hanzo—” 

“You have only once, in all your years ever called me by my name,” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. 

Genji darted forward to grab his arm, and he took a quick step to dodge. 

“HANZO, WAKE UP!”

Hanzo hit the floor hard as he fell out of his bed.

There was a high-pitched screech as the dream demon lost control. Hanzo’s dragons sprung from his arm with a deafening roar, their bodies filling the entire room as they pinned the creature to the ground, clawing it to pieces. 

Hanzo barely registered that this was happening as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Hanzo!”

Hanzo blinked, still trying to separate the dream world from the real. Clearly he was still hearing things. 

“Hanzo!”

“What?” He snapped back to his hallucination, irritated. He looked up to find his room empty. 

“Out here.” 

Hanzo looked out into the hallway to find none other than the outlaw Jesse McCree reflected in his mirror. Hanzo stood and turned swiftly, ready to defend himself. 

McCree laughed. 

“Naw, I ain’t out there, sweetheart.” 

Hanzo ran to the hall, to the living room, to his kitchen, but he was quickly running out of places that the mirror could properly reflect. The entire time, McCree’s reflection waited patiently.

Out of options, Hanzo turned to face his mirror again. 

“Howdy.” McCree tipped his hat in greeting. 

“How is this possible?” 

Was this actually the outlaw that the bounty hunters had been after? He certainly looked like the man on the poster. 

“It’s a long story.” McCree looked sheepish. “And mighta been what got you in trouble.” 

“I’m listening.” Hanzo replied flatly. 

“Short version of it: was outnumbered, tried to outrun ‘em gentlemen you saw the other day, did a magic scan, thought this here mirror was a portal, turns out it was at trap.”

“I see,” Hanzo blinked. “You are not actually a singing mirror then.” 

“Well, I mean, I do sing,” McCree flashed him a charming smile. “But that was just somethin’ Ana told you in case I got bored and forgot my cover. I got lucky that she managed to find me right after I set off the trap. Don’t know what I woulda done otherwise.” 

“You know Ana? She knows you are trapped?” Hanzo frowned. Some pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. 

McCree nodded. “She’s been keepin’ me safe ‘til we find me a way out.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Hanzo refused to be upset that she had kept this from him, but like all other feelings, betrayal is not something one can control. 

“Hey now, don’t look like that,” McCree chided gently. 

“Like what?” 

“Like she chose me over you. She likes you a lot. Just couldn’t tell you ‘bout me for your own safety.”

“That is not what I was thinking,” Hanzo protested. 

McCree shrugged. “I’ve spent a lotta time staring at people lately, but you’re a hard one to crack. Maybe I’m wrong.” 

“You’ve been staring at me?” 

Hanzo’s dragons shrunk down, returning to their cat-like size, likely sensing his distress. They wrapped themselves around his legs and began to croon. 

“No, not when I could help it,” McCree shook his head. “I mostly did when you started callin’ my attention and talkin’ to me. They’ll vouch for me.”

Hanzo turned his attention down to the dragons, who had frozen stiff, having been exposed. 

“You knew?” Hanzo accused the spirits. 

They looked up at him, eyes widening and lowering their ears as they chirped in turn. Unfortunately for them, he was familiar with this tactic. 

“Do not give me that look,” he snapped. 

“It’s my fault. I told ‘em not to tell you.” 

“It would seem as though many in my life have agreed to keep your secrets from me,” Hanzo turned up to growl. At his feet, his dragons began to rub against his calves again, trying to calm him. 

“It was for your own good.” Despite Hanzo’s anger, McCree himself did not seem flustered. In fact, his goal seemed similar to the dragons’. “You were takin’ such good care of me I didn’t wanna see you hurt.” 

“I have not been taking care of you. I have put a mirror in my house at the bequest of someone I thought to be a friend.” A knot was rising in Hanzo’s throat, and he raised his voice to speak through it.

Out of desperation, Soba scaled Hanzo’s body and settled on his shoulder, doing his best to mimic a hug by wrapping his long torso along the back of Hanzo’s neck. 

“She is your friend.” McCree’s kept his voice even, as though he were trying to talk down a cornered animal. “She trusted you with my mirror, and you’ve been takin’ good care of me.” 

“I have—”

“You knew I was lonely.” 

“…what.”

“You noticed when I was tryin’ to catch your attention. You took me downstairs when you were workin’. You started _readin’_ to me,” Jesse insisted gently. “You knew. And you took care of me.” 

Hanzo blinked. It was true that he had decided to do those things. Despite knowing that his actions would seem silly to an outside observer, he _still_ decided to continue on. 

“And that’s how I got you caught up in this mess.” McCree looked a lot more troubled all of a sudden. “They must have somehow figured out Ana was in the area. We used to work together. They followed her here and attached that nightmare demon to the poster they gave you.”

“Do they know you are in the mirror?” 

McCree shook his head. “Naw. They likely told you the truth: they could sense strange magic comin’ from your shop and decided to investigate. They’ve used the demon before. It scans the memories of its victim for images of my face. Luckily you’d not seen me in person. I think they’ll leave you alone now. You’ve also demonstrated you’re far more trouble than they thought.” 

“What about Ana?”

McCree chuckled. “There’s a reason why they’ve not try to shake her down yet. She’ll handle ‘em if they ever try to get near her.” 

The tension in Hanzo’s shoulders lessened. He nodded, taking a step back. 

McCree scratched at the back of his head. “Look, I get it if you don’t want me around. Maybe you could stick me somewhere facin’ the wall? I promise not to—”

“No.” 

McCree’s eyes flickered up to meet Hanzo’s, his lips twitching upward with hope.

“No,” Hanzo repeated. “Ana has put in you in my charge, and that means you are my guest. I would have liked to have been told, but I understand your reasons.” 

McCree let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you darlin’. That’s mighty generous of you.”

On the floor, Udon skittered around, clearly excited by Hanzo’s decision. 

“They sensed my presence on the very first day,” McCree answered the question before Hanzo could ask it. “I didn’t see much harm in admitting the truth. The men who are after me aren’t good enough to read spirit minds.”

“They would not survive the attempt,” Hanzo snorted. On his shoulder, Soba preened.

McCree burst into laughter, filling the room with the warm sound. “I was glad to have ‘em to talk to, but it made my day when you started talkin’ to me too.” 

Hanzo could feel his face burn. “It was foolish of me to do so.” 

“Foolish or not, I really appreciate it,” McCree grinned, and tipped his hat. 

Soba yawned, and butted his nose against Hanzo’s chin. 

“Aww, I’m sorry ‘bout this whole attack, darlin’. You all must be mighty tired.” 

“There is no need to apologize. Thank you for waking me. You saved me a great deal of trouble.”

It was McCree’s turn to blush. “I _caused_ you a great deal of trouble, you mean.” 

Hanzo waved it off. “Barely worth mentioning, considering what I have encountered in the past. We will speak more tomorrow morning.”

McCree nodded. “Alright. Goodnight Han.”

Udon continued to be underfoot, and Soba continued to purr by his ear as he turned and made his way back to his bed. Hanzo tried to settle back under his blankets, but he often had enough trouble falling asleep in even the best conditions, and getting attacked by a nightmare demon hardly qualified as anything even remotely close. 

“Hey Hanzo?” McCree called from the hallway. 

“Yes?”

There was a pause. 

“Do you mind if I whistle or sing a bit? It helps me relax sometimes.”

McCree must have seen him tossing and turning, and likely phrased his question in a way to minimize Hanzo’s embarrassment. McCree must also have figured out from the first day that Hanzo found the whistling soothing. Despite feeling sheepish still, Hanzo appreciated the small kindness. 

“Yes, that would be fine.”

“Thanks, Han.” 

The soft whistling floated through the room, as though on a breeze. It reminded Hanzo of the south wind on his face, of the light feeling he always got in his chest when he was able to make his father laugh, and of Genji’s smile. 

He fell asleep with both dragons on his pillow, and with a smile on his own lips, trying not to think too hard on why he found McCree’s song so comforting if it did not have magical properties. 

\--- 

Hanzo woke up the next morning oddly well-rested, causing him to forget momentarily that he had in fact lost sleep. He forgot the reason for that lost sleep as well.

“Howdy.”

Hanzo screamed. 

McCree screamed. 

Hanzo’s dragons, who had been on the table in front of the mirror, fell onto the floor laughing. 

“Do not—” Hanzo began, but realized the fault had partially been his. He grit his teeth. “Good morning.” 

McCree came back into view. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“You did not.” Hanzo straightened his shoulders. From the ground, Soba let out a snort. Hanzo glared at the dragon. He decided to change the subject. 

“Can I get you anything?” Hanzo inquired. 

McCree shook his head. “Awful nice of you to offer, but I don’t really need anythin’ in here. Not sure how I’d procure it if I did.” 

Hanzo nodded, and excused himself to get ready for the day. The tasks themselves were routine enough, but there was an odd fluttering of anticipation and excitement in his heart. Hanzo couldn’t help but feel that something had changed. 

He was accustomed to long days of silence, punctuated only by the sound of his own movements, and the occasional customer. It was the life he had chosen, the one he preferred after more than a decade of disorienting noise, of fruitless violence. 

Now, he could hear his dragons chittering rapidly in the living room. McCree’s laughter carried down the hall, and he responded to them, but Hanzo could not pick out the words. No, these sounds were softer, kinder. These sounds were evidence of life, not death. 

Hanzo returned to the living room just in time to see Soba attempting to scale the wall, chasing a beam of light that McCree was reflecting just out of his reach. The dragon screeched as he lost his grip, and fell head first towards a vase that was at least twice as old as Hanzo, and had been handed to him by his mother. Udon pounced into him just in time, and they tumbled away from the vase with a crash, tangled in a big knot.

Hanzo felt his eyebrow twitch.

“Sorry. My fault.” McCree peered at him from the side of his mirror. The dragons squeaked in confirmation from the floor.

Perhaps “softer” had been an overstatement.

\--- 

Their days continued as they had before—McCree would join Hanzo downstairs in his shop during the day. They would return upstairs in the evening, and Hanzo’s dragons would appear, curling against him affectionately as they settled for a quiet evening. 

“They never used to be this…”

“Snuggly?” Jesse suggested. It had been “Jesse” for a few days now. 

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded reluctantly. 

“They weren’t sure you liked it.”

“What?”

“They said you used to be different,” Jesse continued slowly, as though he weren’t certain whether he should. “Cold. Angry. Then you changed, but just withdrew.”

“…that is accurate,” Hanzo admitted again.

“More recently, before I came along, they said you just seemed like you were hurtin’. Though you hid it as best you could.” 

From his lap, Soba twitched, lifting his head to peer up at Hanzo, and crooned. Hanzo reached down to scratch under his chin. 

“They started tryin’ to comfort you. Then they started thinkin’ you might actually like their company.”

Hanzo didn’t reply. Udon scaled his leg, and nudged Soba until there was room for his head as well on Hanzo’s lap. 

“They said that my whistlin’ helped,” McCree continued timidly. 

“It does,” Hanzo nodded, eyes still fixed on both dragons. They began to shuffle and squeak, evidently pleased with his response. 

Jesse got to beam at him for the first time in person, which shouldn’t have made Hanzo’s chest constrict as it did.

“Regarding your condition,” Hanzo began abruptly to change the subject and to slow his quick-beating heart. “To what extent have you researched solutions?” 

“Solutions? You mean gettin’ out?” Jesse scratched at the back of his head. “That’s hard to do from in here. Ana and some of my other friends are on it, but so far, nothin’.” 

“I see,” Hanzo nodded with a frown. 

“It’s been tough,” McCree admitted, shaking a bad thought out of his head as he looked up to give him another smile. “But it’s been a lot easier since I met you.” 

“I will find a way to get you out,” Hanzo declared just a bit too loudly. 

Both dragons looked up in surprise. They froze for just a split second, before scaling Hanzo’s shoulders, delighted with this new development. 

“You’d do that for me?” Jesse leaned forward in his mirror, his smile widening and softening at the same time. 

“Of course. You are a friend of Ana’s, after all.” 

While there was a ridiculous laundry list of emotions that this didn’t *actually* express, his own ambivalent feelings about finding a solution ranked highest amongst things Hanzo did not want to explain right now. How could he feel so much excitement at the prospect of actually being beside McCree while at the same time feel so much trepidation about what would happen after he was no longer trapped in Hanzo’s care? 

Later that evening, they settled on the sofa together. Hanzo propped the mirror up beside him so that it was facing his television. On the table in front of him, he laid out a bowl of popcorn, and a flask of sake with two sake cups. He realized belatedly that of *course* Jesse would not be able to partake, but McCree’s entire face lit up when he saw the two cups, and Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to put one away. 

“You’ll like this one, I promise,” Jesse was pressed as far forward as he could be in the mirror as Hanzo set up the film. Hanzo had asked Jesse to choose the evening’s activities, and had even agreed to McCree’s choice of film, knowing that the man must have spent too long forced to look only at whatever was put in front of him. Jesse’s eyes had lit up comically, making Hanzo feel ridiculously proud of even this simple suggestion. 

“Is this the inspiration for your costume?”

“Costume? _Costume?_ ” Jesse demanded with exaggerated indignation. “I’ll have you know this here is the genuine article!”

“In this day and age?” Hanzo smirked. “I hardly think so.” 

“Because a modern-day samurai’s so much better?” Jesse countered. 

Hanzo straightened. “I am not—”

“Walkin’ with one titty out, all like, ‘With every death comes honour. With honour, redemption’.” Jesse lowered his eyes and voice in a ridiculous, and if Hanzo were to be honest, somewhat accurate impression of him.

Hanzo burst into laughter and picked up the bowl of popcorn in defense. “I have never once in my life spoken those words!”

And that was exactly when Genji walked in, catching Hanzo in mid-snort, chucking popcorn at a full-sized wall-mirror that was propped on the sofa beside him.

While Hanzo *had* dreamed the arrival of his brother in his younger form, he evidently had *not* dreamed the text messages announcing his arrival. 

“Hello,” Genji greeted him carefully, lifting his oni mask to get a better look at the situation. He was clearly trying to determine whether his older brother had finally lost it.

“You said 2:00pm,” was all Hanzo could come up with. He darted his eyes to the mirror and found it thankfully blank. 

“Have you been…is this for *me*?” Genji was incredulous as he gestured to the movie, the popcorn. 

Hanzo decided that this was likely his best chance. “Yes.” 

“And the mirror…?”

“I am drunk.” 

Well. It wasn’t a *lie*. 

Genji was clearly still skeptical, but let it slide. “What are we watching?”

“ _The Magnificent Seven_ ,” Hanzo admitted reluctantly. 

Genji raised an eyebrow. 

“It was recommended to me,” Hanzo muttered defensively. 

“And since when have you taken the recommendations of others?” Genji sat on the floor, crossing his legs and leaning towards his brother. 

Hanzo’s dragons chose this very inopportune moment to appear. They began to chitter at Genji with excitement. 

“A new friend?” Genji repeated. 

They nodded. 

“I’m not sure I would call him that.” Hanzo shot his dragons a glare. 

“’Him’?” 

Soba chirped. 

“He is handsome?” Genji was practically vibrating with excitement.

“That is obviously a matter of opinion—”

Udon chirruped long and low, and looked very pleased with himself. 

Genji’s jaw fell open. 

“…and he’s seen _your dick_?” 

Beside them, his mirror slipped and fell face down. Hanzo felt like doing the same.

“And you didn’t _call me_?!”

It took another half an hour to calm Genji down. A lifetime worth of anti-interrogation and torture training meant that Hanzo was impervious to his brother’s wheedling. Genji finally agreed to start the film, and only side-eyed his brother wordlessly when Hanzo insisted on keeping the mirror on the sofa to the other side of himself.

“I am happy for you, anija.” 

An hour into the film, Hanzo turned his attention to his brother, whose eyes were still fixed on the television in front of him. 

“This new friend, he must be special for you to have allowed him into your life.” 

Hanzo snorted. “If I have few acquaintances, it is by choice.” 

“I know. Which is why I am so happy for you,” Genji turned to face him, and gave him a genuine smile. “You chose to. And it is rare for you to do so.” 

“It is not as monumental as you make it seem,” Hanzo protested. 

“I hope that he realizes that it *is*,” Genji teased. “And that he treats you well.” 

Hanzo clenched his jaw, wanting to correct his brother for overstating the friendship, but not wanting to hurt McCree by doing so. He realized, with a pang of shock, that this in itself proved something.

Beside him, his mirror was reflecting light as though the sun was out it its full glory. 

Later that evening, after Genji had said his goodbyes, Hanzo fully expected Jesse to tease him about what his brother had said. Instead, McCree let the issue drop completely. He did, however, shoot Hanzo the widest, brightest smile he had ever seen until he bid Hanzo a goodnight.

\--- 

“Put it back.” 

From the wash basin, Soba chittered at him, blinking innocently. 

“I know you took it,” Hanzo said as sternly as he could. “Put. It. Back.” 

Soba made a sharp chirp which sounded like a resounding “no” and disappeared. 

Hanzo grit his teeth, wondering when his dragons had become such belligerent little shits. He considered briefly whether he should try to purchase a new mirror, but remembered the only other time something similar had happened—on a whim, he had broken down and purchased a small Pachmari plush when he was having a particularly bad day. It had disappeared the day after he showed it to his dragons. Dismayed, he purchased another, and then another, until by the end, he had 15. He was able to take a proper count of them several days later, when they all appeared at once stacked on his bed in a neat pile, with his dragons snuggled in the middle. Hanzo had kept all of the plushies—there was no use trying to return them after all. And secretly, he had been glad to have them to return to when he was feeling sad. He would *not* be glad to find a pile of mirrors in the near future. 

Hanzo heaved a sigh, knowing that he had one _other_ mirror in his residence. Resigning himself to his fate, he walked to the dining room. 

“McCree.” 

Jesse appeared right away, smiling brightly. “Yes, darlin’?”

Hanzo opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to figure out the best way to address the situation. 

“My bathroom mirror is…missing. Could I borrow yours for general use until it is replaced?”

“Oh?” Jesse blushed as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “’Course you can. Just let me know when, and I’ll get right outta your way.” 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.”

“…is something the matter?” Hanzo inquired. McCree was still holding his neck anxiously. 

“Well…no. But…are ya gonna need it for…ya know.” 

“What is it that you *think* I do in front of a mirror, McCree?” Hanzo asked, a little cross. 

“Nothin’ you shouldn’t do,” Jesse’s eyes widened and he waved his hands in front of him frantically. “You’re just so neatly coiffed, I just wondered if you give yourself a lil’ trim down there and I didn’t really get that good a look last time and oh sweet Jesus I can’t believe I said that out loud—”

“ _Goodnight_ , McCree.” 

\--- 

They both seem to have recovered from the embarrassment by the morning, more or less. At least, Hanzo convinced himself that he had, as he was well over due for a shave. He approached McCree’s mirror gingerly, shaving implements in hand. He held his straight edge unnecessarily close to his face to emphasize the part of his body he intended on shaving, in case that were still in question. 

“Mornin’,” Jesse greeted him, a bit sheepishly. 

“Greetings,” Hanzo threw him a stiff wave. “I would like to shave my face.” 

On the floor, both dragons rolled their eyes, and began to chirp at each other. 

“Go right on ahead!” Jesse disappeared from view. 

“Thank you.” 

Hanzo leaned forward, lifting his comb to ensure that the hair was straight before starting. He tried very hard not to think of their proximity, of the fact that Jesse was potentially looking at him as close as anyone has ever looked at him before. Even just the idea of it made the back of his neck tingle pleasantly. Time passed quickly and silently as Hanzo lost himself in the task, determined to maintain his composure despite the gradual blush of his cheeks.

“I am done now. Thank you.” Hanzo pulled back, smoothing his hands over his face, examining the spot under his chin that he often missed. 

He heard McCree before he saw him. 

“Lookin’ good there!”

“You exaggerate,” Hanzo snorted, feeling his face redden even further. He turned away to rinse his face.

“Hey, Han.” 

Hanzo peered back into the living room at hearing Jesse’s voice. 

“Yes?” 

McCree hesitated. “You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want, but why don’t you like looking at your reflection?” 

“What makes you think that I do not?” Hanzo frowned. 

“Well, every time you look at the mirror, and not at me, you wince a lil’. Like you’re bracing yourself for it.” 

Hanzo had to consider for a moment whether or not McCree was correct, as he had never thought on it. 

“And then once you focus on yourself, you look a lot more sad. Like the world weighs heavier on your shoulders.” 

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, searching McCree’s expression for pity, or something even more malicious. He only found concern. Drawing a long breath, Hanzo attempted to provide an answer. 

“For many years, I was unable to face the man I had become,” he answered slowly. “Seeing the man that I am, so much older…is still difficult.” 

Unbidden came the memories of the many times he had looked Genji in the eye in their youth, just before causing mischief, chaos—normal brother things. They had often been told their family resemblance was in their eyes. After what he had done, Hanzo could look at his brother’s eyes no more.

“Han?” 

He looked up to find Jesse peering at him anxiously. He gave McCree a bitter smile. In trying to find Jesse an answer, he realized that perhaps he owed himself one too.

“It is still difficult,” Hanzo repeated. He could feel his lips curl in disgust. “Much of the ugliness I could not face then still remains.” 

“I think you’re beautiful.” 

Hanzo looked up, surprised. It was McCree who now looked as though he were bracing himself, although his eyes were equally steeled with determination. 

“Have from the first day I set eyes on you.” 

“You exaggerate,” Hanzo snorted.

“Naw, ain’t exaggeratin’. There’s a kindness in your eyes. An understanding. Something you only earn if you’ve been through hell and managed to walk right back out of it.” 

“You accepted me for what I am, no questions,’ Jesse added, seeing Hanzo about to protest. “Knowin’ the bounty on my head. Reckon you did the same for Ana. She don’t trust easily, but she tells me she’s always trusted you. Look at yourself and tell me I’m wrong.” 

McCree took a step to the side, so that they were both in view. 

Reluctantly, Hanzo took a step forward, steeling his posture. 

Jesse leaned in so that his chin was positioned just above Hanzo’s shoulder in their reflection. 

“You’re bracin’ yourself again,” he chided gently. “Look. Right over here.” 

Jesse lifted a hand, and it looked for a moment like he was going to caress the side of Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo shivered and shook the thought from his body, knowing that this would be impossible. He tried instead to focus on where Jesse was pointing. 

“These are cute,” Jesse grinned, gesturing towards the small wings of hair on the sides of Hanzo’s head. “But just to the side here…” Hanzo made eye contact with himself, and perhaps, just barely noticeable, _did_ perceive something different. 

“You are playing with the light again,” Hanzo scoffed. 

“No I ain’t,” Jesse frowned. “You’re beautiful. And I’m not gonna stop tellin’ you until you see it.” 

This sounded like trouble to which Hanzo had no reply. 

\--- 

McCree was as good as his word. Every morning he greet Hanzo with a bright smile and a ridiculous compliment. Every evening, he bid Hanzo a good night and offered even more praise. Hanzo had fought it at first—he spent the first week dismissing, refuting, and full on ignoring Jesse until it felt too rude to do so. Eventually, however, Hanzo had to begrudgingly admit that looking at himself became easier with Jesse by his side.

“Mornin’ beautiful.” 

Hanzo huffed. It was the greeting he had come to expect, but he didn’t find himself as upset as he should have been anymore. He had spent so long being the only one to level judgement at himself in the mirror, that he had forgotten even that an outside perspective existed. 

“Good morning.” 

He absently ran a hand through his bed-mussed hair while Jesse peered at him from the side. 

“You look so soft.” 

“Was that meant as an insult?” Hanzo challenged, but his smile betrayed him. 

“Quite the opposite,” Jesse hummed. “Glad I get to see you before your defenses go up for the day.” 

“You are one of the few who has done so and survived to tell the tale,” Hanzo answered solemnly. 

Jesse laughed, causing something warm and pleasant to bubble in Hanzo’s chest. He had been trying to give the feeling a name unsuccessfully for weeks, and completely unexpectedly, it finally came to him. 

_Home_. 

Hanzo felt his voice catch in his throat, so urgent was his need to speak. Everything that he wanted, everything that he had felt but suppressed ever since McCree’s arrival suddenly bubbled over and became as crystal clear as his reflection.

“Hanzo?” Jesse looked concerned. 

“I want to touch you,” Hanzo blurted out, realizing how it he sounded the minute he had spoken. 

Jesse turned beet red.

“Not like that,” Hanzo added quickly. “But maybe,” He decided, his words moving faster than his mind could stop. “If you will allow it.”

That second bit hadn’t helped the situation at _all_ , but Jesse seemed to be staring at him with hope, and not disgust.

“I want to live my life with you by my side,” Hanzo pressed on, figuring he could do no worse. “I am going to find you a way out, and I would be greatly honoured if you would stay.” 

“Darlin’, it’d be my pleasure to,” Jesse murmured back, his eyes glistening especially bright. 

A blue light burst from the mirror, so bright that Hanzo had to shield his eyes. When he was able to open them again, he saw Jesse standing in front of the mirror, not in it, arms stretched wide, face set with disbelief. 

Hanzo launched himself into Jesse’s arms, nestling his face into the other man’s neck, as he had wanted to do for weeks. He could feel Jesse’s hand threading through his hair, grasping at it gently as though to reassure himself that this was real. They locked each other in this embrace, neither willing to be the first one to let go. 

“How?” 

Hanzo tilted his head up finally to look at Jesse, glad to be observing him so closely. “I am not certain,” he replied. “I only knew that I needed you beside me.” 

“And I knew that I needed to be there beside you, sweetpea,” Jesse beamed down at Hanzo, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. “Wanted it so bad my heart hurt.” 

“As did I,” Hanzo admitted with a small smile. 

“Looks like a wish come true then,” Jesse grinned back. His eyes darted down to look at Hanzo’s lips, and he tilted his head to press forward with caution. Hanzo huffed in amusement at the unasked question before meeting his lips half way to share the kiss that was finally possible. 

\---

**::Epilogue::**

Hanzo texted Ana the good news. She had congratulated them both, and promised to look after the shop for a few weeks upon her return, now that Hanzo finally had found reason to leave it. Jesse was eager to travel again, and Hanzo decided that he was finally ready to do so with Jesse by his side. 

In the meantime, life continued in their new kind of normal. 

They had settled on the sofa for the evening, and Soba was purring in content, curled in Hanzo’s lap, while Udon was doing much the same from Jesse’s. The dragons were clearly enjoying the full attention of an entire human at their petting disposal. Soba’s eyes were fluttering closed as he chirped as his brother drowsily, unaware of the error he was about to make. And just like that, all petting stopped. Both dragons stiffened, suddenly wide awake. 

“What do you mean ’We should have let him out a long time ago?’” Hanzo asked flatly. 

Udon whimpered, sinking even flatter into Jesse’s lap. 

“You mean you coulda freed me from the mirror from the very beginnin’?” Jesse demanded. 

“I _thought_ that blue light looked familiar,” Hanzo rubbed at his face with both hands. 

Soba sat up and began to chatter quickly in their defense. It did not stop him from being dropped to the floor as Hanzo stood abruptly to glare down at both of them. 

“How could you possibly have *known* that we would not have gotten together by ourselves?” Hanzo asked through clenched teeth.

Soba snorted, and he chirped his answer. 

“*I* am not hopeless,” Hanzo retorted.

Jesse chuckled despite himself. 

“He’s not really wrong ‘bout that.” 

Soba chattered at them again, and lost even Jesse’s goodwill.

“I am *not* equally as hopeless!” Jesse protested.

Udon chirruped, and Soba chittered belligerently in return. They came to a full stop, however, when Hanzo retrieved two spray bottles from behind the sofa. Both dragons lowered their ears and crooned pitifully with dread. 

“Can’t they just disappear?” Jesse asked, foreseeing the likely chain of events. 

“They could,” Hanzo acknowledged. “But they know that they have it coming. And it would not be a game if they did.”

He shot Jesse a grin and handed him one of the bottles. 

“Well then, you better get, pardners!” Jesse launched himself from the sofa in sync with Hanzo, and the dragons squealed, scrambling down the hall and away. Jesse grasped Hanzo’s hand as they chased after them, feigning an enraged roar. 

Life was no longer quiet, Hanzo mused to himself with a smile, as he heard the dragons crashing through the kitchen even before he saw the chaos they had left in their wake, and he would have it no other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](https://fireflyquill.tumblr.com/)


End file.
